Harry Potter was sinking into depression. His godfather's death had been a shock to him. It was his entire fault. If he didn't fall into Voldemort's trap, Sirius wouldn't have gone to the Department of Ministry, then he wouldn't have died It was wholly his fault.
'No, it was not your fault. Sure, you were the reason he went there, but you thought that he was being tortured by Voldemort there. You did not know that he could send visions to you. It is their fault: Dumbledore's for not telling you anything and ignoring you, not to forget, locking Sirius in that God-forsaken house, Snape's for not effectively teaching you and his childish grudges, Bellatrix Lestrange's for being the one that truly killed him and Voldemort's for tricking you,' a voice inside his head told him.
Harry sat up on his bed. "It's not my fault," he said in conviction. "I will not be vulnerable anymore." With that, he started planning what he should do. First, he should get out of this prison. Then he would go to Gringgotts and find out some answers to the questions that he squashed the years previous; like the amount of his inheritance. He was sure the vault was not the only thing his parents left him. Even if it was the only money left to him, what about the properties like Godric Hollow? It was their home before that fateful night. What happened to it? He had to find out. For too long he had ignored the signs of everything that was kept from him, but no more. Once more the Black Bolt would rise.